Читать книгу An Unlikely Union - Shannon Farrington - Страница 11

Chapter Two

All meals were now finished. Emily helped Jeremiah and the orderlies remove the last of the men’s food trays. Afterward she changed three dressings, then wrote a letter for another Maryland man.

As soon as she had completed that task, Freddy was brought in from surgery. He was already awake, sick to his stomach and shivering with fever. Emily was thankful he was still alive, but it grieved her to see him suffering so. She sat beside him with a basin and repeatedly wiped his face as he emptied what precious little was in his stomach. When the violence finally subsided, she settled him in his bed, then went to comfort Jimmy, who had been watching the entire time.

“He gonna be all right, Miss Emily? Will the sickness pass soon?”

“It will,” she promised. “In fact, his eyes are already clearing.”

“That’s good.” He fell back to his pillow. “Thank you for prayin’ for him. It’s hard seein’ him without his leg, but I’m real grateful the Good Lord’s left him here with me.”

“Indeed, Jimmy. So am I.”

She tucked him in and moved on. The day had been long and difficult. Fatigue slowed her steps and worry darkened her mind.

Where is Sally’s brother? she wondered. Is he misplaced in one of the field hospitals? Has he been captured or is he wandering around somewhere cut off from the Confederate army?

“Lord, please bring Stephen home. Please comfort Edward—”

“Miss Emily?”

She turned to see Private Robert Stone, another Maryland man, looking at her. Emily immediately went to him. A minié ball had shattered his right knee.

“Are you in pain?” she asked.

“No, miss. I’m alright. I just heard you praying for Major Stanton and Captain Hastings.”

Emily blushed. She had not meant to speak the prayer aloud. I must be more careful. She was, after all, a volunteer in a Federal army hospital. There were many here who would disapprove of her prayers for Confederate soldiers.

“I know the major’s not doing so well,” Rob said. “I think perhaps, well...I think he feels responsible.”

Her skin prickled. Responsible? She sat down on the edge of his bed. “What exactly do you mean?”

“I think he feels responsible for the captain and the others.”

Emily’s pulse quickened. This was the first time anyone had mentioned Sally’s brother. Did Rob know what had become of him? She glanced about for Dr. Mackay. If Stephen was hiding out somewhere, she didn’t want that man or anyone else in blue to know.

The Scotsman was at the far end of the room, checking on a sergeant with a terrible cough. His ears were plugged by his stethoscope. Jeremiah had gone to the kitchen, and the sentinel at the door was well out of earshot.

Emily looked back at Rob. “Captain Hastings was reported on the lists as missing. Do you know what has become of him?”

He swallowed. “I’m afraid I do, miss.”

Her heart immediately sank. Oh, no. Rob was undoubtedly struggling to tell her what she could already guess.

“Is he dead?”

For a moment he looked almost relieved. The gentleman in him did not wish to break such news to a lady. “I’m afraid so...but he died bravely. A hero.”

Tears filled her eyes. Emily shut them for a moment. When she regained her composure she asked the man to tell what he knew. There was no longer any fear of Federal eavesdropping. Plotting to help a Confederate soldier would be considered treason, but Stephen was beyond any aid or shelter she could offer him now. Any details Rob could provide about his demise may bring a small measure of comfort to Sally, and perhaps hold the key to Edward’s solitude.

“Were you with them on the battlefield?”

He nodded. “Me and what was left of the old Maryland Guard. First Maryland Infantry Battalion we are now.” He shifted his position, wincing slightly. “Captain Hastings, well...it was a bad scrap. We don’t blame Major Stanton. He was just following General Stewart’s orders. Things just happen like that sometimes.”

Her heart beat faster. “What things?” she asked. “What orders?”

“To take the hill, miss. Culp’s Hill.” He gestured battle movements with his hands. “You see, we were all lined up. The bluecoats were above us and we were fightin’ our way through the trees, over the rocks. That’s when it happened.”

“What did?”

“Captain Hastings was with Major Stanton in the front. Right in front of me, in fact. They charged valiantly, yelling for us to follow. Gave the rest of us real courage, it did.”

Emily had expected no less. Stephen and Edward were the bravest of the brave. At least Sally and the rest of them could take solace in that.

Private Nash continued. “Captain Hastings took a bullet to the chest. I know ’cause it spun him around. Major Stanton took one in the arm just about the same time. They fell together. The next one had my name on it.”

She was grateful he spared her the gruesome details, although she had little difficulty imagining the sight. Emily had seen what hot lead could do to a man. “I am certain your comrades appreciated your sacrifice,” she said, her voice quivering slightly. “Were you successful in taking the hill?”

“No, miss. We had to fall back.”

Tears spilled over once again, and frustration filled her soul. Such loss, such sacrifice for nothing gained! Stephen died for ground unclaimed, ground that even the Federal army probably no longer occupies!

“Our men tried to gather us,” Rob insisted, “but they couldn’t get us all. The Yankees were just too quick.”

“Is that when you were captured?”

“Yes. Major Stanton shielded the captain just in case any of the bluecoats used their bayonets, but I believe he was already dead by then. When the major realized, he was shook up real bad. You could see it in his eyes. He held it together for the rest of us, though, tried to encourage us as we were being rounded up. But then we learned we’d been fightin’ the First Eastern Shore.”

He looked at her as if she should know what that meant. Emily had no idea.

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

“The First Eastern Shore is Maryland Infantry, miss. We, the First Maryland, were fightin’ against men from our own state.

Emily sucked in air. Rob continued.

“When Major Stanton learned that, the fire just went out of him. All he could say was ‘it was my fault.’ To my knowledge he hasn’t spoken a word since.”

Waves of nausea rolled through her.

“I can sure understand it,” he said. “We’re all torn up inside. Sergeant Moore told me he’d seen his own cousin bearing the colors for the First Eastern Shore.”

Emily was afraid she was going to be literally sick. It was bad enough these men were fighting against their own countrymen, but Marylanders spilling Maryland blood? No wonder Edward could not speak.

“Miss Emily? Will you do something for me?”

She tried to rein in her feelings. She could do nothing about what had happened on that hill, but perhaps she might be able to do something for Rob, for Edward.

“Of course.”

“Will you tell Major Stanton that he’s one of the bravest men I ever served under? And that I’d be proud to do so again.”

She was struck by his loyalty, his compassion for his officer. “I will do so. Is there anything else that I may do for you?”

“No, miss. Don’t fret over me. There’s plenty of other fellas here worse off.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Emily said.

“You’re welcome.”

He offered her a hint of a smile and she gave him one in return, but they both knew the other’s heart was heavy.

Gathering her skirts, Emily rose slowly, feeling as though she had twenty petticoats and two sacks of flour tied about her legs. She had promised Rob that she would convey his message, but would the words comfort Edward or be another painful reminder of what had taken place on the battlefield?

Just as she stepped away from the bed, Dr. Mackay made his way across the ward. He must have seen the look on her face and recognized something was wrong.

“Are you ill?” he asked.

Ill didn’t even begin to describe how she felt. Men from my state are shooting at their neighbors, their own relatives! And Sally...her brother has been killed! Now I must tell her the terrible news!

But Emily swallowed back her emotions. It would do no good to tell Dr. Mackay such things. He would offer her no sympathy. He’d probably say her friends deserved what had become of them.

“A nurse in danger of swooning is of no use to me in this ward.”

Her backbone stiffened. “You need not worry,” she assured him. “I am not given to such tendencies.”

His left eyebrow arched as if he doubted that, but before he could speak, a soldier’s cry commanded his attention.

“Doc! Doc! Come quick!”

Emily turned, as well. A young Kentucky man was bent over the bed, holding his brother—a soldier who had been wounded in the neck and jaw.

“He’s turnin’ blue!” the man cried.

Dr. Mackay raced to the Confederate man’s side. Taking one look at him, he ordered Emily to fetch water and lint packing. She hurried to obey while he ran for the locked cabinet at the end of the ward. She gathered her items, he a surgical tray.

“Hold on there, Billy,” the brother encouraged. “Doc’s comin’.”

“Step back!” the Scotsman commanded. To Emily, he said, “Remove those bandages so his wound is exposed.”

She deposited the basin and packing on the table beside them and quickly carried out his instructions. Her heart was pounding, for Billy was staring wide-eyed at her, silently begging for help.

Then he closed his eyes.

Oh! Oh! “Dr. Mackay!”

The instant Emily had seen to the last bandage, the doctor moved in with his scalpel. She watched as he made an incision in Billy’s neck just below his maze of black battle scars and inserted a small tube. Dr. Mackay then blew his own breath into the man’s throat.

Emily had never seen such a thing before. The blue in Billy’s face faded to gray, then finally a more natural shade.

After several more breaths, Dr. Mackay straightened up. Still holding the tube in place, he asked for the packing.

“Do you wish for it to be cut into smaller strips?” she asked.

“Aye.”

She did so, handing them over one at a time. While he secured the tube, Emily couldn’t help but wonder, on what was this soldier choking? He was one of the men who had been prescribed a low diet, only beef tea and a little milk. She had followed Dr. Mackay’s orders precisely concerning that. One of the man’s comrades must have given him something else to eat.

“Were you able to dislodge what he swallowed?” she asked.

“He isn’t choking on food.”

“He isn’t?”

“’Twas the swelling from the wound which constricted his airway.” Dr. Mackay spoke with confidence, as if he performed this sort of thing daily and in doing so had saved countless lives. Emily prayed that was indeed the case. Much to her relief, after a few moments Billy’s eyes fluttered open. She dared breathed a sigh, knowing the immediate crisis had passed.

Emily touched his shoulder. “Just lay still,” she encouraged. “You’ll be all right.”

She hoped Dr. Mackay would confirm her words, but he did not. Plugging his ears with his stethoscope, he listened to Billy’s chest. Thankfully, he looked pleased with what he heard.

Emily’s heart slowed somewhat. The Northern physician would not spend his breath comforting a Southern man but he had preserved his life. For that, she was thankful.

* * *

Evan watched her exhale. The sight of such procedures had sent many of his past assistants to the floor, but she’d managed to keep on her feet and follow his instructions. For that, he commended her. With so many prisoners to tend to however, he could not be concerned with her health. She had clearly been troubled before this case, and even now she was still a ghostly shade of pale.

Removing his stethoscope, he told her, “Take a moment to yourself and get some air.”

Still too overcome to respond, she could only blink.

“Go on, now,” he said.

Slowly, she turned. The Johnny in the bed beside them thanked her for her help. She patted his arm silently, then walked away.

The reb then turned to him.

“Thank you, Doc. I’m real grateful to you for savin’ my brother’s life.”

With those words Evan wasn’t certain what he should feel—gratification or anger. If it wasn’t for brothers such as these, ones willing to make war on their own nation, his brother would not have died. Not knowing how to respond, he ignored the comment altogether.

He signaled for the steward. “Fetch me some ice,” he told him.

“Yes, sir.”

He’d see if that would bring the swelling under control. If not the reb’s brother would have to return to the operating room.

* * *

Emily stepped into the corridor. Her heart was still pounding. Try as she might, the breath she repeatedly drew just didn’t seem to be enough to fill her lungs. Heading straight for the small window, she pushed it open. The air drifting in from the harbor was not fresh by any means but at least it was a little cooler.

Contrary to what Dr. Mackay may think, the sight of blood had not caused her distress. It was thinking of how the poor wounded man had come upon his injury. She did not know where Billy and his brother had been during the recent Pennsylvania battle, but she knew by looking at them that their experience had been just as horrific as Edward’s and Stephen’s.

Oh, Lord, I beg you. End this war...please...

“Em, are you all right?”

She turned to find Julia standing in the hall.

“What troubles you? Is it that poor soldier? He looks much improved now.”

Emily sighed. Julia was the last person she wished to burden with such distressing news, but she realized she needed to know. “I have received some information concerning Stephen.”

Her friend’s shoulders dropped with a long sigh of her own. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“I suspected such. Especially when Edward wouldn’t speak. Poor Sally...but why would Stephen have been reported as ‘missing’?”

“A misidentification, I suppose.”

“Then it’s likely he is buried somewhere on the battlefield?”

“I would imagine.”

Sorrow fell over them both like a shroud. The sound of wounded soldiers groaning echoed through the halls. An armed sentinel passed by on his way to duty, and they could hear an officer shouting orders on the floor below.

“Private Stone saw him fall,” Emily said. “He told me the entire story.”

“What did he say?”

She explained what she had learned. When Emily got to the part about Maryland men fighting their own neighbors, in some cases their own flesh and blood, all color drained from Julia’s face.

“Gracious,” she breathed. “Edward chose to fight in defense of his state and now battle lines have forced him to fire upon our own citizens? Does he know this?”

“Apparently so. Private Stone says Edward feels responsible. He overheard him remark it was all his fault.”

Julia wiped her eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief. Emily dabbed at her own eyes with her apron. The sights and sounds of war continued to swirl around them.

“We need to tell Sally,” Julia finally said.

“Yes.” Though Emily dreaded having to be the one to do so, she volunteered anyway.

“No,” Julia said. “It should come from me. I will tell her when she returns. Do you think Private Stone would mind if I spoke with him? I would like to hear the story for myself.”

“I don’t believe he would.” Emily paused. “There was one other thing.” She told Julia how Private Stone had asked her to deliver a message to Edward. “But I am not certain now that I should.”

“What kind of message?”

As Emily explained, tears spilled over Julia’s long, dark lashes. “Tell my brother what the soldier said.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes. I believe it will help.”

They both turned back for the ward. Emily introduced Julia to Rob, then stopped to check on Billy. Crushed ice had been placed around his neck. Dr. Mackay was nowhere in sight, but Jeremiah Wainwright was sitting at the soldier’s bedside. Emily asked if he had need of any assistance. When the steward politely declined, she moved on to Edward.

Her friend was staring at the dust-covered rafters above him. She surveyed his tight bandages but only with her eyes. Then she poured him a fresh cup of water and drew close. All he did was blink.

Setting the cup aside, Emily quietly moved in closer. “Edward,” she said softly. “I understand that you do not wish to speak to me or to Julia right now, but know that we are here should you change your mind.”

She waited, hoping for a response of any kind. There was none.

“And know this...God waits patiently, as well.”

His lips tightened into a thin line. His jaw twitched. It was the first real indication he had given that he was listening to anything she said.

Emily leaned a little closer. She could see the pain in his eyes. Her heart ached for him. He had been her schoolmate, her childhood friend. He had teased her and tugged at her curls. She had once bandaged his wrist when he’d cut a gash in it after jumping from the tree in her backyard.

I mended his wound then, but how do I do so now? How does one even begin to ease the guilt a soldier feels over the death of his friend?

There was no change in his eyes, but she felt compelled to continue. “Private Stone asked me to deliver a message to you....”

Slowly, his eyes shifted from the rafters to her. Emily drew hope from the movement.

“He said to tell you that you are the best man he has ever served under, and he would be proud to do so again.”

What she’d hoped would bring encouragement had just the opposite effect. Edward’s jaw clenched and Emily watched helplessly as his eyes welled up with tears.

He shook his head no.

Her heart squeezed as she whispered, “I know what happened on Culp’s Hill. I know what happened to Stephen...to the other Maryland men.”

“It was...my fault...Emmy.”

His voice was distant, defeated, but he had referred to her by her childhood name, a memory of a happier time. She used his, as well.

“No, Eddie. You mustn’t blame yourself. We are at war. Terrible things happen. There was nothing you could do—”

“How dare you!”

Emily felt the blood drain from her face. She need not wonder who had spoken the fierce words. She already knew. How long Dr. Mackay had been standing behind her and how much of the conversation he had heard, she was not certain, but it had been long enough to rouse his fury. Swallowing hard, she turned. He stood towering above her, fists clenched at his sides.

“What do you think you are doing?”

When she didn’t answer immediately, he pointed to the door.

“Get outside!”

Emily chanced a glance at Edward. Just as she had feared, the blank stare had returned. I have made things worse.

Torn between comforting her friend and following the doctor’s orders, she hesitated. She shouldn’t have.

“Now, Nurse!”

Emily’s legs were as wobbly as a freshly cooked batch of mint jelly and walking the distance to the doorway seemed to take an eternity. All around her, the wounded stared, surely wondering what was about to happen. Even the Federal guard at the entryway showed sympathy on his face. Emily wasn’t afraid of Dr. Mackay physically, but she feared that he in his position of authority would hinder her from ministering to the Confederate men.

She stepped outside. He was immediately on her heels, catching the hem of her skirt with his long stride. Emily turned to free herself before his clumsiness ripped the fabric. Losing her footing, she was captured by his massive hands.

“You little rebel!”

“Unhand me, sir!” she commanded.

He did but only to stick a long, sharp finger in her face. “I will not have that kind of talk in my ward! Do you understand? How dare you tell that dirty Johnny it isn’t his fault! They started this war! The blood of thousands is on their heads!”

Emily sucked in her breath, fire building inside her. Her parents had raised her to be respectful, to be gentle. She had never been one to argue before, but this man, this Yankee, brought out a fierceness she didn’t know existed.

“They started this war? I beg to differ with you, sir. It was your soldiers who opened fire upon our civilians, and that is why a good many of these men took up arms in the first place! They wished to defend our state from tyrants like you!”

He looked shocked. Surely no woman had ever talked this way to him before. His eyes then narrowed. “I assume you are referring to the riot on Pratt Street.”

“I am.”

“Then you had better get your facts straight.”

Emily held her ground. “Oh, I am completely aware of the facts, Doctor. Major Stanton and his sister, her husband as well, were caught in that riot.”

“Aye. That explains quite a bit. All of you are as guilty as sin.”

Her blood was boiling. How dare he speak that way about her friends! “They are guilty of nothing more than meeting the Philadelphia train. Julia was nearly trampled to death when your Massachusetts soldiers emptied their muskets in an act of barbarous cruelty!”

The veins in his neck were bulging. His side whiskers rose like the barbs of a porcupine. His chest swelled so that Emily expected his brass buttons would fire off at any moment.

“Did your rebel friends tell you that the shooting took place only after the Pennsylvania volunteers were cut off from the rest of the Federal forces? After they had been pelted by missiles and cut by shattering glass?”

Emily held her tongue, though she was silently questioning his words. She had never heard of these supposed Pennsylvania men. She doubted Julia had, either. Was it true?

Dr. Mackay stepped closer, his anger seething. “Did they tell you that my brother, an unarmed man, had his head bashed by a paving stone? That he died twelve hours later?”

The disgust she felt instantly evaporated. Whether his facts concerning the riot were entirely accurate or not was not the issue. He had suffered the loss of a loved one. He was suffering still.

His anger must be his attempt to manage the pain. Her heart squeezed. “Dr. Mackay, I—”

“Do not lecture me, miss, about your good citizens of Baltimore! I know perfectly well what you all are capable of.”

He stared at her, his gray eyes as sharp as any bayonet. She held his gaze.

“I apologize for my hasty words, Dr. Mackay. I am truly sorry for your loss. How many years had your brother?”

The old proverb about a soft answer turning away wrath proved true. He looked surprised that she would even ask. His stance softened just a little.

“He was nineteen.”

She grieved any loss of life, Confederate or Federal. The cost of war was much too high. “Too young,” she whispered.

“Aye. ’Twas much too young indeed.”

The color was slowly fading from his face. Dr. Mackay raked back his dark brown hair, looking as if he didn’t know what to say next.

Emily waited, wondering. Will he regain his temper, or will he dismiss me without further word?

He did not have time for either. A steward from Sally and Elizabeth’s section appeared at the door. “Doctor, come quick! Your assistance is needed.”

The call of duty snapped him back to his determined, unyielding state. His shoulders straightened and the commanding physician immediately turned. Emily stared after his broad back until the door closed behind him. Breathing a sigh of relief, she then returned to her own ward.